


Slasher Drabbles

by Torzoko



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies), Halloween (1978), Halloween Movies - All Media Types, Horror Movie Slashers
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, M/M, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Other, slashers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:54:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29845953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torzoko/pseuds/Torzoko
Summary: My drabbles or one shots of Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees. I might add more characters as this progresses.
Relationships: Jason Voorhees/Reader, Jason Voorhees/You, Michael Myers/Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers/Reader, Michael Myers/You, Myerhees
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Michael Myers X Reader - Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael Myers visits a childhood friend, who is not pleased to see him.

The News was only white noise as I waited for the kettle to boil. It would have been better to order something, but Halloween was notoriously bad for delivery. Ramen would suffice.

Haddonfield always went all out on Halloween, but I have always refused to. It was just a bad reminder of what happened to the Myers family that one fateful evening. No one remembered me, I knew that. It was like my tongue had been severed, unable to tell people that I was Michael Myer’s childhood friend.

The kettle whistled, and I shook off my trance momentarily to pour it into the styrofoam cup. Taking it to the living room, I sat down and tried to get my mind off it in favour of the news.

When nothing sparked my interest, I could feel the guilt rise up from my stomach again. What if I had done something wrong that night? Could I have stopped it? It was stupid, but I know I was the one who asked Michael to go trick or treating that night. Every Halloween, that feeling of dread washes over me like it had never left. The police tape, seeing Michael covered in blood as he just looked dead. More cold than I’d ever seen him.

It kept me up at night. I was afraid, but too young to know why.

The News anchor brought me back to reality, discussing the bus crash from a day or so prior. It was from the Haddonfield Institution. Wait. Wasn’t Michael supposed to be on that? How had I missed that?

I quickly got up, my cup of ramen forgotten momentarily as the world suddenly seemed blurry and uneven. My phone was in my hands, frantically typing to try and see if I could find any news about it. There had to be something. Anything.

There. There it was. Michael’s name listed among other missing patients, as if he was comparable to them. This was Halloween, for crying out loud. How many people had he gotten to already? Why hadn’t this been widespread news by now? My stomach churned. I didn’t feel hungry anymore. I knew that Michael probably wouldn’t even remember me, but what if he came here? What if I saw him? 

I felt like I was going to vomit, the feeling growing stronger when I realized that there was a small inkling of hope that maybe he would come looking for me. I hate it.

I ended up in my bathroom, leaning against the toilet as I fought off the bouts of nausea tormenting my body. The panic had turned to a cold ache, the world around me a distant echo. Why did I ever come back to Haddonfield? To my childhood home? What good would that ever do. I could still hear bits of the TV from here, and the footsteps of children outside.

No, not children.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, that I didn’t notice until now that those footsteps weren’t children. I shut my eyes. I don’t want to hear it. Just leave me alone. Let me spend my Halloween alone like every other one.

The footsteps went silent, as if hearing my silent plea before the bathroom door creaked open. I refused to open my eyes. Just leave.

I could feel his eyes on me, as I sit on the cold tile pressing my legs to my chest. He didn’t move though, and neither did I. It felt like eternity, a one-sided staring contest to see which one of us lasts. I would always be weaker than him though, and I forced myself to slowly open them.

Sure enough, I could see the blood stained blue tracksuit and hiking boots. His knife glinted off my bathroom light as I cautiously looked up into those hollow eyes of a white mask. I spoke without thinking, almost a whisper. “Michael.”

He took a step forward and I flinched, cursing myself for it. The man stopped his movements, examining me carefully. I wish I could see his eyes properly to know what he was thinking, but I knew that was useless. Even as a kid, he never showed much. Yet, in that moment he tilted his head. It was slower and stiffer than any animal I’ve seen, but it wasn’t another step at least. Everything about him was different, but in a small way, familiar.

He straightened, and then turned. Michael left me there in the bathroom, a shaking mess as I tried to make sense of everything. The bile finally rose to the top and I had to turn to puke. I was clammy, my heart racing a mile a minute. In those moments alone, I had the worst panic attack I’ve had in years.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, trying to calm myself down from what could have been my last moments. It felt like hours. However when I left, Michael was stood stiff in my living room, watching the news anchor report the murders of some Haddonfield residents. All fairly young. One was a cop. I looked at my phone that was sitting on the couch, then to the front door. He would catch me if I tried to run. Even now, I knew he could tell I was watching him.

“Do you want something to drink?” I blurted out, my throat raspy from earlier. He simply turned to look at me, still holding onto that kitchen knife he no doubtedly stole from a past victim. Only now did I notice it dripping with blood, surely staining the wood under his feet. Had I been in there that long? That he had managed to leave and come back with fresh blood?

I slipped into the kitchen, fully aware of Michael burning holes into my back. My hands were slightly shaking, but I gestured to a few drink options. He dipped his head when I pointed to the beer. Taking that as a yes, I put it down on the counter for him to take, recoiling when he reached out for it.

There was a long pause, the news chattering away as we watched each other. By now, I was wondering why he was here. It feels like I should be dead, but all he had done since he’s been arrived was curiously watch me. 

Michael reached up, lifting his mask just above his mouth to drink. It felt wrong to look when he did, but the can was finished in seconds. The mask had returned to its original place. However, he looked a little confused on what to do with the empty drink now. The man was simply staring at it, before scanning the kitchen as if looking for something.

I moved without thinking, walking over to him and reaching out to take it. Michael’s fingers brushed against mine and I froze. The can clattered to the floor, snapping me back to reality. I stuttered out an apology, about to pick it up when a large hand pressed into my shoulder. My eyes widened, snapping back to that pale mask. His hand was warm, but firm. What did this mean?

I was sure that in my youth I would have understood. I remember getting exceptionally good at understanding Michael, even in his occasional silence. Yet, when I tried to recall what this could mean, I drew a blank.

The hand moved closer to my neck, and I swallowed thickly. Hadn’t one of those victims died by strangulation? As it drew closer, I had half the mind to pull back and make a break for it. His fingers traced my skin, stopping above my pulse. I’m sure my heart is beating fast enough to see, anyways.

For someone about to kill me, he was surprisingly gentle. Michael tilted his head, the brown hair of the mask barely moving to follow. I wonder if his hair is still blonde under there. His hand left my throat and I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. The skin felt cold, betraying me as if it missed the warmth. It got its wish not a moment later, Michael suddenly pushing me forward. My back against the kitchen counter, his hands landed on either side of me. I was trapped.

Body pressing against mine, there was suddenly something that clicked for me. “You didn’t come here to kill me.” I murmured, disbelief evident in my voice. He nodded.  
“Then...what do you want?”

He shifted a little, and the TV seemed to answer for him. Over Michael’s shoulder I could just barely see the Myer’s family home, burned down. “Oh.”

Michael really didn’t want to kill me, I was just his only option. His only friend he had ever gained in Haddonfield. Michael seemed satisfied with whatever expression I had made, leaning back and getting off of me. He gave me room, thankfully, and I took a moment to breathe.

Choosing my next words carefully, “...I don’t have a guest bedroom, but I have an air mattress?” I felt like an idiot, but Michael nodded.

This was not how I expected Halloween to go. The questions and mood swings came like wildfire as I silently set up the mattress in the living room, Michael watching me the whole time. When it was finished, I gave him a few blankets and a pillow.

I was worried. Rightfully so, but I still managed to get some sleep that night after I locked the bedroom door and made sure he had stayed in the living room.

When I woke up with him next to me asleep, I realized I made a horrible mistake.


	2. Michael Myers X Reader - Understand (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s nothing funnier than getting deathly ill at the feet of a serial killer.

It’s been emotionally draining, to put it lightly.

It had been a couple weeks since the infamous Michael Myers came to live with me. Since that morning after he first arrived, when he somehow made it into my room.

It was off-putting. The mask was still on, and he was perfectly still as his breathing was the only sound. Sunlight bathed in through the cracks in my blinds, and I would almost call the scene picturesque.

It wasn’t, though. Once I woke up fully, I shook the thought away and tried to forget he was even there. Thankfully, he seemed to do the same with me.

I’m not sure when he leaves or comes home, but he’s never there when I return from work. He seems to only come back when I’m asleep.

Yet, here I was. Driving home from work because my boss finally told me to take sick leave after I almost broke another glass when someone made me jump. They weren’t even hard to spot, and the incident just keeps replaying in my head. Am I really that unhinged?

I pulled into the driveway. The lights are off of course. I realized pretty quickly that Michael doesn’t seem to turn any lights on, even in complete darkness.

My body shook a little, begging me to turn around and get back in the car. To avoid whatever was activating my fight or flight. Forcing it, I finally got my hand to move, the key turning with a click as I pushed the door open. Nothing. No sign of him. Even after I had closed the door and moved further into the living room, he was nowhere to be found. I sighed, feeling my body get heavy despite the fear coursing through it. Then I heard almost silent footsteps, if I hadn’t noisy floorboards he could have snuck by. I swivelled quickly to face him. I was a deer in headlights.

He was coming out of the bedroom, probably assuming I was an intruder by the way he was tightly grasping the knife to his side. My only thought was about where he had been keeping that in the bedroom, before the room started spinning. 

I felt my knees buckle, but all I could focus on was how hot my body felt.

Something cold wrapped around me, and I subconsciously leaned into it. In the few times I’ve been sick, nothing had snuck up on me quite so ferociously and fast.

Only when a hand gently patted my cheek did I realize I had screwed my eyes shut. Of course it was Michael. His mask did nothing to portray what he thought as I leaned on him with laboured breathing. He was crouched on the living room floor with me, an arm around me and a hand against my cheek. The sane part of me was screaming to move, but it was drowned out by Michael’s hand moving to press against my forehead.

He paused before tightening his grip and lifting me up bridal style. Almost robotically, the man turned and started to head towards the bedroom. The covers were pulled back before he placed me down, pulling them over me. I pushed back weakly at that, and Michael paused.

“Too hot...” I mumbled, my mind becoming hazy. I’ve never been this sick before.  
Michael kept the covers off, and I sighed in relief. My eyes slid shut as I tried to ignore the distress my body was in. Beyond that thick veil, was the sound of my unwanted roommate moving around the house.

When he came back, I opened my eyes to a glass of water and a few tylenols. He gestured for me to sit up and I obliged with some help, swallowing the pills moments later.

My eyes shut again right after, a wave of heat rolling over already clammy skin. The bed dipped, and a cool hand pressed against my neck. If it were any other time and place, I would have tensed. Now though, I melted into it, thankful for anything to distract me from how I was feeling.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, Michael running his hands along my neck and cheek. I just know that eventually I succumbed to my body’s wish for sleep. Michael never left my side.

When I finally pulled myself out from the many fever dreams, it was dark outside. I was pressed against Michael’s chest, his arms wrapping around me protectively. If he kept this up, he would get sick too. That thought was almost amusing to me. The terrifying Michael Myers sniffling in bed.

Although it was impossible to see from an outside perspective, there were things that Michael did that made me remember how he used to be as a kid. I heard the stories, about how he was insane and incapable of everything that makes us human. He would go out, even now that he lives with me, to only further prove that point.

Yet, I couldn’t hate him. I tried to over the years. If it had truly worked, I wouldn’t have let him stay here. I wouldn’t have come home after that first night. Maybe I could have gone to a different state, made a new identity. Get away from him.

It was odd. It took being wrapped in his arms for me to actually think about it. Really think about it. It was the first time since that night he was incarcerated.

I’m not okay with what he does, but maybe I could be okay with Michael. For now, at least.


	3. Jason Voorhees X Reader - Fearless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes being fearless is stupid, sometimes it helps you make friends.

The forest was peaceful, although a little humid. The sunlight cut through the dense pines in warm patches as I jogged a little to keep up with the others. Camp Crystal Lake, what a place. Even after all the murders and gruesome deaths, it still remained something special.

I hadn’t wanted to come on this trip, but a few peers from my college sure did. I had a feeling it was because I was the only person they knew with a car. Now that I was out here, though. I realized maybe it would be nice. If I ignored the others that is.

“Dibs!” One of the guys yelled from a cabin, the rickety walls doing nothing to prevent his voice from escaping. The camp was old, almost falling apart. These winters hadn’t been kind to it.

As I was taking in my surroundings, I noticed my party had been tossing trash already. Really? We just got here. It’s almost like you want to be caught by Jason.

I leaned down and started to collect them, mulling over that thought. I wonder if Jason Voorhees really is in these woods? Just waiting for people like us? I wonder what I would do if it came down to a fight for my life.

The beers were tossed into a trash can, and I mentally made a note to take it with me when I leave. After all, no garbage men ever come up here.  
“What are you doing?” One of the girls noticed me by the trash. She had frizzy red hair that seemed to bounce every time she moved.

“Just making sure you guys get first dibs.” I lied, not wanting to start a fight already. Seriously, though. Just pick up after yourself.

She seemed happy with that, flashing a grin before going to meet up with one of the guys. I think they’re dating, but considering I can’t even remember their names, I could care less.

The night fell quickly. The forest that once was a peaceful lush landscape had turned to a dark unknown. I couldn’t see without a light, and frankly I didn’t want to venture off on my own. Since the light had dipped below the horizon, I kept getting the feeling I was being watched. Normally, I’d chalk it up to paranoia, but this time I think I really am being watched. The campfire they made was nice, at least. It made the feeling just a little more bearable.

Glancing at my car, I was happy to know that if I really did get in any danger I could just leave. The only reason I haven’t yet is because it would mean leaving this group out here to die. The guilt would be too much.

“Want a marshmallow?” The frizzy girl from earlier offered, reaching one out to me. She was cuddled up with that guy from earlier, snug under a blanket I remember her bringing. I gladly took it, popping it into my mouth with a smile.

The fire was dying down now, flickering pathetically and hungry for more fuel. The others didn’t seem up for staying though. Yawns escaped a few of them.

“I think I’m going to head in” One chimed, the others soon following. I didn’t.

The eyes were still on me, even after all of the lanterns in the house turned out. I simply fed the fire, picking up all the trash from the others and throwing it out. What now? I sure wasn’t tired. I actually had a feeling that if I slept now, I wouldn’t wake up.

Glancing around, my eyes suddenly landed on a white blob a few metres away. It was hidden by a thicket of pines, but I could recognize what it was. A hockey mask. Well, fuck. I thought about my options. I could leave and not look back as these people are slaughtered, or stay and see what happens. The latter could definitely kill me, but someone’s going to die either way with my luck.

I slowly lifted my hand, testing the waters as I gave him a small wave. What I presume is Jason Voorhees from all those legends seem to tilt his head. I squinted a little, noticing he seemed to be waving back? Although, that could be the dark playing tricks on me. Glancing around, my eyes landed on the half empty bag of marshmallows. I picked them up, looking back to him and pointing at them. It was a silent offer.

For just that moment when I looked away at the marshmallows, Jason had already moved much closer. Now I could see it really was a hockey mask. A machete glinted at his side. Lovely.

I sat back down, watching the flames flick hungrily at the broken down logs. I made sure to be acutely aware of Jason, however. He seems to move relatively quickly as he weaved through the trees, eventually reaching the campsite. The man was much larger than I originally thought, and seemed to be looking around with what could have been suspicion.

“They’re asleep, I think.” I stayed relatively quiet, remembering how the cabins had thin walls. With a light gesture to the seat next to me, he slowly lumbered over and obliged. His hand never left the machete. I passed the bag to him, taking one myself.

His movements were slow, unsure. I was an unpredictable threat after all. Maybe I shouldn’t feel so smug about that.

The giant looked away from me, slightly lifting his mask to eat one. Just as it entered, he flipped his head to look at me. I realized now that his one eye was slanted as he seemed almost surprised. I was worried he didn’t like it, but he soon swallowed and took another.  
“You’re Jason right? I- Uh- wasn’t actually sure you existed until now.” I gave a sheepish smile.  
Jason turned back and nodded. He seemed at least more comfortable than before

“I also didn’t think you would actually take my offer.” I gestured to the bag. In response, he pointed at the bin I’d been using to dump trash. “Oh, I didn’t know you saw that...”

It was a little embarrassing to know I only survived because I picked up trash. Jason didn’t seem to mind though, staring at the fire for a bit. His gaze soon turned to the cabins where my group was sleeping. I expected him to get up and march over there with his machete. Maybe I was being friendly with him, but I would put up a fight if he tried. It still felt like they were my responsibility to get home.

Yet, he didn’t. Instead he turned to look back at me and I flushed, realizing I was indeed staring. “Sorry.”  
Tilting his head, his machete gestured to the cabins and then to me. It was unspoken, but I think I understand. “I’m the only person that was willing to drive them. Didn’t want to come.”

Jason went to get up and I realized I just told him it was practically okay to kill those people. I shot up, putting my hands out. “No, no, wait. We’re leaving in the morning. I still want to get them home.”

I could feel him scan me before sitting back down. Oh. I didn’t expect him to listen. Out of all the legends about this man I’ve heard, none have described him as compliant in any way. Just vengeful.

My hands lowered, and I sighed before sitting down as well. “This is not how I imagined I’d spend my weekend.” Jason simply watched me. I guess it felt nice to know he was listening. A yawn cut through my thoughts, and I realized it was me. My company tilted his head towards the cabins. I guess he was right, it was time I got some rest too.

I stretched and got up, about to pour the bucket of water over the campfire before I paused. I glanced over at Jason, who had already begun to leave when I wasn’t looking. “Wait.”  
He did, glancing back at me. I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck, knowing I was acting silly. “If i come back next week with marshmallows, would you sit with me again?”

The man readjusted his grip on the machete, but seemed to be relaxed as he mulled it over. Finally, there was a nod in response. I lit up, continuing what I had been about to do moments prior. Jason was already long gone when I had finished cleaning the camp.

The next morning I was quite satisfied as we went to leave, and no one else had a clue why.


End file.
